I would now like to publicly state that I love The Cat in the Hat. Always have. I can’t imagine living in a world without a cartoon cat in a head-worn accessory. Long has that frisky feline made me chuckle and wheeze with laughter. Hysterical, nauseating laughter. But I also find it necessary to admit that I’ve yet to read the book. I don’t know. Just never found the time…
I remember 2003. I remember it vividly. As if it were only 12 years ago. I forced mother to take me to the theatre seven times to see that film and even today, at 33, I refuse to go over to her house unless she promises to play it for me. But still, after all these years, I cough and shudder with hiccuping laughter all the way through.
I know you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Why the hell hasn’t this guy found the time to read the book? But I agree wholeheartedly with his assessment of that cinematic masterpiece.” And to that I say, “Ah.” I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me… I guess I’m just a busy guy. So much of my time is spent cradling other peoples cats and scolding myself at public bus stops.
I’m in the minority here, I know, but never have I liked a book more than its film adaptation. The way in which directors take color and images and then move them on a screen. Writers can’t do that. Or, perhaps, they don’t even try. Most of them don’t even use pictures which should be a crime. Get with the times, Hemingway. If I wanted to bore myself to sleep, I would’ve brought a pillow.
Mike Myers is god. I am completely assured of that fact. No other actor could have brought that character to life. The first time I saw the film I asked myself 10 minutes before it ended, “Is this an actor? Surely this must be a cat.” But it was not. It was a man playing a cat and that man was Mike Myers. Austin Powers, you did it again, baby.
Confession: I’m not in love with reading. That is honestly my favorite part of watching a movie. That it is not reading. If I had to choose between reading and watching a movie, I would choose a movie every time. Except, of course, for The Godfather. Neither De Niro nor Brando could save those sinking ships. Though the novel is incredible. One that I’d recommend to any man, woman, or child with no hesitation. I was just so glad Pacino was able to turn it around with the third film. Al Pacino is jesus.
At this point, you’re probably blue in the head wanting to know who the holy spirit is. If Mike Myers is god. And Al Pacino is jesus. Who the hell is the holy spirit? Directors. Film directors are the holy spirit. And anyone who picks up a book before seeing the movie is satan.